


always first

by lilyvalley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Female Homosexuality, Female Relationships, Femslash, Minor Canonical Character(s), POV Minor Character, Riddle at Hogwarts Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:32:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2861615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyvalley/pseuds/lilyvalley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walburga Black always, always comes first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	always first

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heartsfilthylesson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsfilthylesson/gifts).



They sit in the parlor like two porcelain dolls with pretty china white faces, but that is where the similarities end. Walburga has her dark Black hair knotted into a rigid chignon that sits precisely on her neck, and she stares down the other girl with her cold Black eyes.

To her credit, the eighteen-year-old girl who is to marry Cygnus does not flinch as she returns Walburga’s gaze, but perhaps it is because Druella Rosier has the wide bright eyes of a simpleton. If the child sat any stiller she would be mistaken for a doll: apple red cheeks, rosy plump lips, and brown hair that drapes around her neck in perfect curls. Walburga hates her.

There are many things Walburga dislikes with vehemence, but the foremost of these is the small-bodied child with the audacity to marry into her family. She has the soft little features of a daughter crafted by generations of social climbing mothers that have culminated in this marriage and worse, she wears that smug little satisfaction of a woman who knows it.

This brat does not deserve the name of Black that will be thrust upon her in two weeks’ time, but there is little Walburga can do to stop it. Pollux and Irma have decided it is to be so, even though Cygnus is the youngest of their brood, younger even than Alphard, who had been the first to steal Walburga’s firstborn prominence by virtue of being the firstborn son.

But it is Cygnus now who is first, after years of playing catch up. He beats Walburga to the altar with his pretty little Rosier whose every movement since the engagement has reeked of smugness. Irma has forced Walburga to spend time with her future sister now, ostensibly to help the bride pick a piece of Black jewelry for her something borrowed. Walburga would rather eat her hat.

“It is so lovely of you to have me, Walburga.”

Walburga stares down Druella’s platitude with unflinching eyes. Even as Walburga’s bright eyes pale to ice, Druella keeps that simpleton smile, waiting, wanting. Most likely Druella is used to being rewarded for these girlish pleasing smiles but Walburga refuses to play by these plebeian rules. She watches Druella’s perfect little smile tighten at the corners and that bright satisfaction fade from her eyes as Walburga lets the relentless silence push on.

“I’m so very excited to have you as a sister,” Druella continues, after a pause that drags much too long. Despite Walburga’s best efforts, the younger girl remains chipper in her delusion. “It would mean ever so much to wear a Black heirloom to commemorate the occasion.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Walburga snaps. “You’re not part of the family.”

Druella’s placid little smile tightens, and Walburga smirks a bit in victory. “Walburga, I realize this is difficult for you–”

“What, exactly, do you think is difficult?” Walburga sets her piercing gaze upon Druella, hawklike in its focus and predatory gleam.

Sucking in a breath, Druella releases it with deliberate slowness, and Walburga watches those eyes flicker with a naive little girl’s uncertainty, weighing if her words are worth whatever punishment Walburga may inflict. 

Two rapid blinks and then: “Well I imagine letting another female join the family–”

Walburga’s laugh is guttural and echoes low in her throat. “Hardly. I have my mother, not to mention Aunt Cassiopeia.” The lie does not fool her, so she simply keeps her unmoving eyes on Druella, her eyebrows peaked in exacting judgment.

After a few moments of silence, Druella finds her fool’s courage. “Well–” she begins in a softer voice, her lips flapping as her eyes cast down away from Walburga’s unflinching gaze, “since Cygnus is younger than you, I imagine…” She trails off, her voice a murmur then, that only well-trained ears could be attuned to hear. But Walburga has been trained perfectly. “It cannot be easy watching him marry before you.”

Walburga grips Druella’s tiny chin in her thin hands and brings her face upwards. The action does the desired effect of shutting Druella up, and Walburga smiles in victory as Druella’s eyes flicker with unease. Her lips part only slightly but make no noise. With viperlike agility Walburga completes her dominance and presses her firm mouth onto Druella’s, whose small silent gasp grows further at the contact. Walburga seizes her chance, teeth clenching onto that bottom lip and tongue snaking in to explore Druella’s mouth. 

Druella’s hands fly up to grip the back of Walburga’s head and she thinks the little girl will try to pull away (as if she could) but instead Druella fists her fingers into Walburga’s chignon and presses her closer, moaning like the harlot Walburga has always suspected she is. 

Walburga finally yanks herself away with a wicked smile, leaving Druella mid-gasp and breathless. She backs the younger girl into the old oak table until Druella is forced to sit, her legs sliding up with practiced ease. Walburga nearly makes a snide aside but decides to let her fingers speak for her, and they slide up Druella’s smooth thigh without preamble, brushing past the lacy garment blocking her from her target and slipping in further until she is rewarded with a sharp gasp from Druella. Druella slides her hands around Walburga, pressing into her back and pushing them closer as her lips reach upward to meet once more. Only a centimeter separates them when Walburga withdraws, fingers and all.

Her whisper skirts Druella’s lips, a mocking taunt. “Do you really think I’d let you get off that easy, Druella Rosier?” She sucks off her own fingers as she steps back from Druella. “On your knees.”

Hesitation clouds those eyes still darkened with lust, so Walburga pushes. “Don’t pretend that’s the first time a Black has asked that of you.”

Now Druella recoils with shame and hatred in her eyes, but still she slides off the table, though she has not gone down just yet. 

Walburga presses further, her voice harsh and unrepentant. “Don’t be a fool, Druella. We both know Cygnus will never love you.”

For a moment, neither moves. Druella only releases breaths in short, sharp huffs, and Walburga wonders if she has gone too far. Then Druella sinks down, pulling Walburga’s ankles towards her, her fingernails digging into the fine pale flesh. With flippant quickness she flips Walburga’s skirts over her head, and then Walburga allows herself the quietest of moans as those loose brown curls trail over her inner thighs. Then she feels the small hands pulling down her silk undergarment and moans aloud when Druella’s breath reaches her from below.

Druella’s words echo upwards, trembling into Walburga’s center. “And we both know no one will ever love you.” Then her tongue replaces her insult, and Walburga’s knees tremble as her nails pierce Druella’s unblemished shoulders - for support or punishment, she could not say. But her breaths come faster as Druella’s tongue writhes within her, burrowing into every fold Walburga has kept closed off from any boy fool enough to think himself worthy. 

This girl is hardly worthy, either, but as those harlot hands move up her inner thighs, Walburga thinks this girl is certainly talented enough. When her tongue pauses for a moment, Walburga lets out an impatient hiss, but then two fingers plunge in and her affronted hiss becomes a breathy sigh. Druella’s tongue circles as her fingers claw inward with perhaps a little bit of a hatred, but Walburga doesn’t care as her eyes roll back and her hips buck hard into Druella’s tart little mouth and as she cries out she smiles with wicked victory because she has successfully taught this presumptuous future sister of hers the most important thing of all.

Walburga Black always, always comes first.


End file.
